


A Normal Day

by legolastariel



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: A little sappy, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, M/M, a little humor, a little sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-20
Updated: 2016-08-20
Packaged: 2018-08-10 00:03:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7822438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/legolastariel/pseuds/legolastariel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daryl is devastated over Denise's death, blaming himself for it and lashes out at everyone, including Rick.<br/>The group is trying to help him through this, their attempt failing at first - until someone from the past is able to make the difference.</p><p> </p><p>  <i>Since the day Denise had been killed, Daryl had neither slept, nor eaten properly and his overall demeanor had Rick immensely worried. He had never before seen Daryl this shaken and upset and yet at the same moment almost frozen to the core – not talking, unresponsive, just brooding while an incredible rage burned in his eyes. He was a ticking time bomb and any day now he was likely to just snap. Rick felt helpless and couldn’t fight an immense fear deep inside, that Daryl was going to do something entirely stupid – and that he, Rick, wouldn’t be able to stop him.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	A Normal Day

**Author's Note:**

> \- This story is set after the scene of Daryl digging the grave for Denise in episode 6x14 -  
> It's an AU version, in which Rickyl is canon. 
> 
> Sorry, it's unbeta'ed and my mother tongue is not English. Hope it's bearable nevertheless. :-)  
> Feedback is more than welcome!

**A normal day**

 

It was the break of dawn and the first rays of the Virginia sun barely peeked over the horizon, when Rick opened his eyes and stared into the twilight of his bedroom. It was absolutely quiet. There was no sound that could have woken him, which had him give a frustrated sigh the next moment. 

It was too quiet. No rustling of the bedding, no breathing that indicated someone else’s presence – he was alone. Again. Daryl wasn’t there. Another morning that Rick was woken by a very uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach and this deafening silence. Since the day Denise had been killed, Daryl had neither slept, nor eaten properly and his overall demeanor had Rick immensely worried. He had never before seen Daryl this shaken and upset and yet at the same moment almost frozen to the core – not talking, unresponsive, just brooding while an incredible rage burned in his eyes. He was a ticking time bomb and any day now he was likely to just snap. Rick felt helpless and couldn’t fight an immense fear deep inside, that Daryl was going to do something entirely stupid – and that he, Rick, wouldn’t be able to stop him. 

He got out of bed and donned the first clothes he could grap in a hurry, before almost running down the stairs. It wasn’t hard to guess, where Daryl was. The archer had barely moved from that spot in all the time since they had brought Denise home and it was just where Rick was headed, although he almost feared going there. 

The sun had come up a little higher when he cautiously walked into the little graveyard by the wall and it illuminated the place enough for Rick to immediately make out the lone figure sitting by a grave at the very end. 

His heart broke a little more each time he found Daryl sitting in that spot, unmoving, blindly staring ahead of himself, a keyring with a name tag clutched in his hand as though it was his most precious possession – and maybe it was. Rick had asked him about it, but had gotten no response. Just like he had asked him to come home with him, get some sleep and something to eat – anything! But that, too, had fallen on deaf ears.  
After the first night that Daryl had spent in this spot rather than by Rick’s side, he had meant to ask Carol to talk to him, but then Tobin had showed up at his door, handing him a letter she had written. A letter that said she had left. She was gone, because being here and loving people would mean, having to fight and to kill for them – something she could not do any longer. So without a word, sometime in the middle of the night, she had just left.  
After Denise, Daryl had lost her, too. Rick couldn’t quite put his finger on the kind of relationship his boyfriend bore to these two women, but he obviously had strong feelings for them, and losing them both within such a short time had sent him over the edge.  
For the first time, since he had met Daryl two years ago, the archer was thrown off balance, seemed to have lost the way and was robbed of his usual strength.  
Whenever this had happened to Rick, Daryl had always been there, had always offered guidance and support and no matter what, he’d always been able to pull Rick back on solid ground. The younger man wanted to return the favor, wanted to help Daryl through this, wanted to be the lifeline to him for a change, but whatever he had said or done, it wasn’t working. He couldn’t get through the wall his boyfriend had erected around himself, leaving Rick frustrated and powerless. 

He slowly walked up to the unmoving figure that sat hunched next to Denise’s grave, and let himself sink to the ground right next to him. For a moment he remained motionless next to Daryl, not touching, not speaking, just waiting for him to act first. But he didn’t.  
So after a few minutes Rick cautiously dared address him.

“Hey. You been here all night?” 

There was no response.

“I missed you. It’s cold and lonely up there without you.”

Again there was no response at first. Then Daryl slowly lifted one hand and held it out to Rick.

“Here. That may help.”

His speech was slurred and he was swaying a little, the hand holding out a small bottle to Rick slightly shaking. Rick’s eyes narrowed when he took it and squinted at the lable in the twilight. 

“Whiskey? Are you drunk?”

“Ya bet. Totally shit-faced.” 

With a sigh, Rick had the bottle disappear into his pocket quickly.

“Daryl, I know how you feel, but …”

“No”, the archer cut in fiercely, “you know shit.”

“Well, I know that you liked Denise a lot and she took quite a shine to you. And Carol and you have been friends for a long time. Now with both of them  
gone …”

“ ‘s not that.” Daryl cut in once more. “I didn’t listen. I just shoulda listened.”

“To whom?”

“You. When ya said we shouldn’t trust people, you were right.”

Rick shook his head. Hadn’t they been over this often enough? 

“No. Daryl, I told you, I …”

“Shut up, Grimes. _I_ know better this time.” He breathed in deep, while he pushed his long bangs out of his eyes, staring ahead of him though. “Never told ya, but back when I was out there with Sasha and Abraham … We got attacked and separated. Turned out it was a guy with two women. They were on the run. They needed help. And I thought I knew better. Thought I knew what I was doin’, so I asked ‘em the three questions. One of them girls didn’t make it, but I meant ta take the other two with me to Alexandria. – I was such a freakin’ idiot.”

A frown spread over Rick’s face.

“I don’t understand …”

“Dwight”, Daryl continued. “His name was Dwight. First moment I turned ma back on ‘em, they stole ma bike and crossbow and took off. Left me all alone in them woods without weapons or anything at all. Didn’t care a rat-fuck that I coulda died there. It was _him_ , who shot Denise – with _my_ crossbow! The fucking sonuvabitch used ma own crossbow ta …” His voice broke. “I shoulda killed the bastard when I had a chance to. It’s all ma fault. I shoulda listened to ya. These days ya shoot first and ask questions later and yer right. None of this woulda happened …”

“Stop!” This time it was Rick who cut in fiercely. “Don’t do this.”

“Do what?”

“Blame yourself for things you had no way of knowing. What happened wasn’t your fault.”

“Yeah? Tell that to Denise.”

“She would _know_ it wasn’t. So whatever you do – don’t let this change you and turn into something you’re not.”

Daryl gave a sarcastic snort. 

“Like what?”

“Me.” Rick retorted gravely.  
He bent forward in order to look into Daryl’s eyes, but his look still wasn’t met. Breathing in deep he continued:  
“Shoot first and ask questions later? That’s wrong and you know it. Yeah, I’ve done that often enough, just because I can’t trust myself these days. Because too damn often I just lose my grip and I need _you_ to stop me, to hold me back when I act way over the top, because _you_ are right. If we all acted the way I do, we would have missed out on lots of wonderful people – like Michonne or Tara. Remember in Terminus, when Maggie said Rosita, Eugene and Abraham were friends? You never hesitated to say that made them our friends as well. This is who you are. Don’t let what happened break your spirit, Daryl Dixon.”

The older man gave another snort, before taking a swig from yet another bottle he had pulled out of his pocket. 

“Ain’t nothing gonna break ma spirit. Just came to a conclusion, ‘s all.”

“And what’s that?” Rick asked, while trying to snatch the bottle from the drunken man’s hand.  
Daryl’s reflexes however were still surprisingly quick and he avoided Rick’s hand easily, bringing the bottle up to his lips once more before answering:

“Like I said – yer right. Not just about not trusting people, but about what ya said ta me the other day after I left.” ***

“I said a lot of crap that day. Whadda you mean?” 

“That speech ‘bout emotional ties being dangerous. That feeling for someone and losing them fazes ya, throws ya off balance. Ya said, ya tried not ta care all that much, so that losing me wouldn’t have ya fall apart.” ***

“Yeah, and you said that was the dumbest thing you’ve ever heard.” ***

_(*** From my story "Knots untie")_

 

For the first time, since Rick had sat down next to him, Daryl looked up and met his eyes. 

“But it ain’t.”

Another frown flashed over the younger man’s handsome face.

“Just what do you wanna say?”

“Don’t play dumb, Grimes. I’m saying that you’re better off without me. And I was always good on ma own. All this”, he gestured furiously at Denise’s grave and then tossed the empty bottle forcefully into the distance, “only happened ‘cause I cared too much. Learned ma lesson.”

Rick felt all color drain from his face.

“Daryl, no.”

He reached for he other man’s arm, but his hand got swatted away forcefully. 

“Don’t! – Just leave me the fuck alone, Rick.” 

The younger man felt a wave of despair wash over him. This couldn’t be happening. After all they’ve been through together. After all the obstacles they had to overcome, first of all his own stupidity, to finally be the couple they had always meant to be, Daryl was breaking up with him? Was he truly planning to repeat Rick’s mistake, opting for solitute rather than facing the threat of losing another person he loved?  
There had to be something he was able to do or say that would have Daryl reconsider. Tara just lost Denise. Tobin lost Carol. He was not going to lose Daryl over this. He just couldn’t. 

Again he reached out to his boyfriend, hoping that physical contact would help to reestablish the emotional bond that seemed to be failing.  
He never saw the rough shove coming, never expected Daryl to react as fiercely as he did, yelling at him the next moment. 

“Get lost, Rick! I mean it.”

At a lack for words, Rick just stared at the other man for a long moment, unable to fully comprehend what was happening here. As long as they’d known each other, so Daryl had told him, he had always ever wanted him by his side, had dreamed of Rick to reciprocate his love. And now that he did, he broke up with him over one misguided decision? After Daryl had come such a long way, he meant to go back to where he started and burn all bridges in the process? Surely this was the booze talking, but for now the conversation was obviously over. It was senseless to reason with him at this point.

Slowly Rick got up, dusted himself down and cast another pained glance in Daryl’s direction. Another one of the small bottles had just made an appearance and Rick couldn’t help the tears that pooled in his eyes suddenly.

“Go back to the house, please. If we were attacked right now, you’d be an easy prey. Shit-faced like that, you’re not even gonna hit a barn, least to say a sniper or walker.”

“You’d be surprised. Even someone with no shooting skills whatsoever can shoot a bolt right through somebody’s eye.” He lifted his head and cast an angry scowl in Rick’s direction. “I _know_ , Rick. I was there.”

Resigning Rick turned on his heels and slowly walked away. After a few steps he stopped and, without turning, said softly:

“I love you.”

He heard the latest bottle getting tossed against the wall with a violent thud.

“Yeah, and that’s a stupid decision _you_ made.” 

 

With a heavy heart and a knot in the pit of his stomach, Rick stepped out of the small graveyard and almost ran into Maggie, who’d obviously been standing there for quite a while already. The look on her face was a little guilt-ridden, while concern darkened her green eyes. 

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. I heard you leave the house in a hurry and thought something may have happened. And then I saw where you were headed … I saw him there earlier. Has he even been home at all?”

Rick hung his head and shook it with a deep sigh.

“No. He never moves from that spot anymore.”  
He pulled his hand out of the pocket of his jacket and held it out to Maggie, the small bottle Daryl had given him on his open palm.  
“Rosita, him and Denise found a bag with these bottles that day and he is practically living on them now. He’s not eating, not sleeping, just drinking that blasted stuff. He’s blaming himself for what happened to Denise and I don’t know what to do anymore, Maggie. Can’t get through to him.”

Gently the young woman placed her hand on Rick’s arm and gave it a squeeze.

“Come on, I wanna show you something.”

He didn’t react. For a moment there he just stared at his hand that still held that small bottle, as if all of a sudden he thought Daryl’s way of handling things wasn’t such a bad idea.  
With a sad smile she snatched the item and let it disappear into her own pocket, before getting hold of his hand.

“I’ve got a better idea”, she just said and then gently pulled him along, all the way back to their house not letting go of his hand. 

 

An hour later a curious assembly had gathered in the deserted infirmary, as Rick’s group, down to the last person, save for Daryl, stood around the former examination table.  
One or the other yawn was head, since it was still very early in the morning, but when Rick and Maggie had set out to wake the others and had asked them to meet at the infirmary as soon as possible, they had all showed up immediately without a word of complaint. They knew, if Rick asked them for a meeting, it was an urgent matter – a new threat, a new battle ahead, something serious that happened. In order not to worry them too much, Rick had simply said “It’s Daryl”, which had turned out to not ease their worries in the least. They all _knew_. Most of them had tried to talk to the archer themselves – to no avail – and all of them had seen the state he was in. Within ten minutes of waking them, everybody was gathered at Tara’s and Denise’s house.  
It felt weird to be there, when the two women were not. It didn’t feel _right_ , but it was the only place they were certain, Daryl would never set foot in these days. 

“Do you think that’s a good idea?” Rosita just asked, when Rick had explained the plan to the others. 

“I’d punch your nose, if you did this to me”, Abraham added gruffly. 

“I’m quite positive so will Daryl”, Eugene announced from his spot next to Abraham, while he pressed one hand to his still aching shot wound. 

With a grin, the red-haired man gave him a friendly slap to the shoulder. 

“You’re lucky _this_ is the man with the murderous teeth, Rick, not Daryl. Otherwise your dick wouldn’t be worth a damn any longer.”

Rosita gave him a dark scowl. 

“Just shut up, Abraham.”  
She sent a questioning look into Rick’s direction, since he hadn’t answered her yet. 

“It’s worth a try”, Rick replied with a shrug. “Can’t get any worse than it already is and Maggie’s got a point.” 

Sasha gave a curt nod.

“Then we should give it a try. I’m in.” 

“Me, too”, Michonne added. “What do you want us to do?”

Rick looked over to Maggie, secretly pleading her for help. Two years he had been the leader of this group now. Two years in which he had made countless decisions – some of them good, some of them not. He was exhausted – emotionally, mentally and physically. The memory of Daryl sitting hunched next to that grave, clutching those damn alcohol bottles like they were his elixir of life these days, while Rick was unable to do anything at all to help him, left him bare of any strength in right this moment. He just wanted to be with Daryl. Wanted to hold him, while he knew painfully well that his boyfriend wouldn’t allow him even near. He couldn’t even think straight at this point and saw a knowing smile tug at Maggie’s lips. 

“Okay”, the young woman addressed the group, “listen up. This is what we do.”

 

The sun was at its zenith and the streets of Alexandria were busy as people tended to the various tasks appointed to them. It was yet another warm, sunny day, but the rays never made it to the spot where Daryl sat unmoving next to Denise’s grave, the trees around the graveyard as well as the wall providing shade there almost all day long.  
The archer had dozed off, the high amount of alcohol in his body leaving him dizzy and sleepy. He knew Rick was right. If they were attacked right now, he didn’t have a prayer. Fact of the matter was, he didn’t even bring his crossbow or a gun when he came here, well aware that this alone was a dangerous thing to do these days. If you were unarmed, you were a victim, especially as close to the wall as he was, with only small openings as an exit. This wasn’t just a graveyard, this was a trap and perhaps this was exactly why he stayed here all day long, why he drank one of those bottles after the other.  
Carol had left because she was tired of fighting, and going out there all by herself, unwilling to kill, maybe not even to protect herself, was suicide. And perhaps she had made the right decision. Why go on fighting at all? For what? To see every loved person die? To lose every place that had become home? To go through the same agony over and over and over? What kind of life was that? 

_You gonna be the last man standing._

That’s what Beth had said to him once. She had thought that he was made for how things were now and maybe she was even right. It was true what he had told her back then – that he was just used to things being ugly. He had never known anything else. All his life had been a struggle to survive, so not too much had changed for him really. Which had been helpful when things had started to go south, but then it also meant that his entire life summed up to one fucked up day after the other. He couldn’t even look back and draw strength from memories of beautiful days. There hadn’t been any. Even though he knew how to fight, he had been a victim from the day he was born, simply because fate hated him with a vengeance. Simply because the fighting never stopped. Maybe he wanted it to stop. Maybe he just wanted some peace for a change. And if staying in this graveyard, either sitting here or lying six feet under, would provide that peace, so be it. 

“Daryl?” 

The toneless voice had Daryl open one eye reluctantly and squint at the person standing in front of him.

“Whadda ya want, Eugene?”

“I regret having to disturb your … whatever, but I must admit that my constitution leaves much to be desired still, and right now I could need a little assistance to get back to the infirmary, if you could spare a minute.”

With a pained expression he pressed a hand to his side and swayed just slightly, while he held his little monotone speech.  
Daryl was alert right away and struggled onto his feet.

“Eugene. Hey, man, what’s ta matter?“ 

“Like I said, my constitution …”

“Yeah, yeah, alright already. Need a fucking dictionary to get the crap yer saying. Why the hell didn’t ya go over to the infirmary right away?”

Eugene looked at him deadpan.

“Got lost.”

Daryl’s eyes widened.

“Ya got lost? In this shoebox of a town? Yer kidding me, right?”

Instead of answering, Eugene grabbed Daryl’s shoulder as a new wave of dizziness had him sway and the archer gave a gruff grunt as he tried to steady them both. 

“Fucking brilliant, man. Can’t barely stand straight maself. C’mon.”

Unsteady, but with grim determination, Daryl reached around the younger man’s waist and pulled him along towards the infirmary. It took them a couple of minutes to get there and Daryl’s own dizziness as well as the first painful stabbing of a headache didn’t help the matter, but he had his mind set on getting Eugene to the infirmary.  
When the house came in sight, he hesitated a moment, swallowing against the lump in his throat.

“No one there ta help ya”, he stated matter-of-factly. 

“That’s okay”, Eugene started to reply, when he saw Daryl sent him a scowl.  
“I mean, it is _not_ okay, of course, but there should be some kind of pain medication and fresh bandages.”

“Yeah, aspirin sounds pretty good ta me, too.”

“Actually, to take any kind of medication in combination with alcohol …”

“Look, smart ass, yer not ma mom, okay? So shut up or I’m gonna kick ya the rest of the way to that fucking infirmary.” 

Eugene cast him another deadpan glance.

“Is ‘rude’ your middle name?” Daryl glared daggers his way, so Eugene raised his hands defensively. “Never mind. Just wondering.”

A moment later they reached the door and Daryl pushed the younger man toward it.

“Here. Ain’t going in there. Ya can manage the rest yerself, right?“

In just that second Eugene’s knees buckled and he sunk heavily against the archer.

“Damn, what’s the story, man?”

Daryl caught the other man, moaning when the headache flashed through his skull like a knife, and then reluctantly pushed the door to the infirmary open. Entering the room backwards, dragging Eugene along with an effort, his heart skipped a beat when all of a sudden the lights were turned on inside and a shower of confetti rained down on him.  
The next second Eugene stood straight as a rod, all signs of dizziness and pain disappearing miraculously.

“Er, surprise, I guess”, he just said drily. 

Daryl’s expression darkened even further.

“Ya were just putting on a show?” 

He turned around and found himself looking into several smiling faces. The entire group was there – Rick with Carl and Judith, Sasha and Abraham, Rosita, Michonne, Glenn, Maggie and Eugene. They had put up several ballons, a garland that said “Happy Birthday” and a cake with candles sat in the middle of the examination table. 

“Surprise”, Rick repeated with an uncertain smile. 

He had his doubts that this would work in the least, but they had managed to lure Daryl away from the graveyard. That was a start.  
The archer’s shadow blue eyes narrowed dangerously and he sent an angry scowl to the assembled people.

“Have ya’ll lost yer fucking minds? Ain’t ma birthday.” 

“This day is as good as any”, Rick started, but Daryl cut in immediately.

“For what?! In case ya haven’t noticed – someone just died. Someone I happened to really care for. And ya’ll think it’s a great idea ta throw a party? Ya gotta be fucking kidding me!”

He turned on his heels and slammed the door shut behind him. 

“Now, that didn’t go too well”, Eugene commented matter-of-factly. 

Rick ran one hand through his tight curls and breathed in deep.

“I told you, he’s not gonna like it”, he said to Maggie. “You know how he is – and the timing is more than bad.”

“Timing’s always bad these days”, Rosita cut in. What do you want to wait for, Rick? A bright, sunshiny day when everyone’s happy and relaxed? There are no days like that any longer. The _right_ day may never come, so today is as good as any, just like you said. Denise told us she was afraid – too afraid to even tell Tara she loved her. And now …” She swallowed hard. “Tara will never hear it from her. We can only tell her, but that’s not the same and Denise was out there with us, to try. To change. She was gonna face her fears – and she did. _This_ …” She pointed to the decorations and the cake, “this was a _good_ idea. It was meant well – he just needs to understand the intention, the motivation, so go ahead and explain it to him.”

“And hurry”, Abraham added, “I want a piece of that fucking cake.” 

Rick cast him a frown, but Rosita’s words made sense to him. Daryl didn’t understand. How could he? Just when he meant to head for the door, Maggie’s hand on his arm held him back. 

“Let me talk to him first, please.”

Their eyes locked for a long moment and a silent understanding passed between the two of them. Hopefully later he would be the person Daryl needed, but right now, she was the better choice to talk to him. With a nod he confirmed her request.  
Wordlessly she picked up a present that had set wrapped next to the cake and headed for the door, leaving behind a room that was way too quiet for a party place. 

 

It wasn’t hard to guess where she would find Daryl. He had returned to his spot next to Denise’s grave, unmoving and brooding once more, a small object clutched in his hand when she approached him.  
Slowly she sank to the ground next to him, not saying a word, just waiting. After a moment of silence it was him who spoke first.

“Rick should know better than that”, he muttered. 

“He did”, Maggie replied softly. “It was my idea.”

Daryl turned his head and looked at her, giving her one of his intense, piercing looks from under the way too long bangs. The _“Why?”_ in that look was palpable. 

“You know”, Maggie picked up, “before all this started, people used to come together after a funeral. Friends and family. To have something to eat, to talk, to honor the person who died.”

“Yeah, but they didn’t throw a fucking party.”

“That’s right, but you shouldn’t be alone now.”

He couldn’t help giving a sarcastic snort.

“Maybe some people prefer to be alone”, he replied gravely, while he once again stared at the object in his hand.

“No. Maybe _some people_ can handle solitude, even seek it at times. But when things get really rough, especially when someone close to them died, no one wants to be alone. Deep down inside we all need someone to catch us when we’re falling, to help carry the load and console us. You know what they say – a sorrow shared, is a sorrow halved.”

“What do _they_ know?”

“You know I’m right.” 

“Just don’t know what you were thinking throwing that party.”

For a moment Maggie didn’t answer, only breathed deep several times. Then she said softly:  
“Do you know why we all stopped having those get-togethers after funerals?”  
The question was rhetorical and she continued right away.  
“Because these days we seem to do nothing _but_ funerals. Someone dying is not an occasional matter any longer – it’s become normal. But it shouldn’t. _Normal_ should be celebrating birthdays and holidays, having baby showers …” 

Her voice failed her and she noticed Daryl slowly turn his head to her once more.

“That’s what Beth said, too”, he said almost inaudibly. 

“I know.”

She saw the question in his eyes and raised her arm to hold out the present to him.

“What’s that?”

“Your birthday present.”

His eyes narrowed once more.

“Told ya, it’s not ma fucking birthday.”

“Just take it. – Please.”

With a snort he took the item from her and reluctantly started opening it. After a moment he held a small notebook in his hand with a black rubber band around it to hold it closed.  
Almost instantly he recognized it and his hand started to shake.

“It’s Beth’s diary”, Maggie said in a choked voice. “Noah gave it to me, after … after …” 

Tears were pooling in her eyes all of a sudden.

“I know”, he said, saving her the pain to continue the sentence. 

“I couldn’t open it back then”, Maggie continued in a choked voice. “It just didn’t seem right. But then, when I found out I was pregnant, I thought … well, one day her niece or nephew may like to know what kind of person she was. Those were her thoughts, those were the things on her mind, the things that were important to her. This _is_ a piece of her, her legacy. All we got left.” A single tear ran down her cheek while she continued. “So I opened it. She tore out the first pages …”

“Yeah, she did that after the prison fell. After your dad … Well, then.”

Maggie pulled in another shuddering breath and then said:

“There are only few pages written, but I think you should read them.”

Daryl’s jaw muscles clenched visibly while he shook his head.

“Nah, she was yer li’l sister. This is for you, not me.”

“It _is_ for you, Daryl. Because what she wrote in her last days – it’s all about you.” 

He looked at her with wide eyes, his teeth clenched violently. Maggie’s eyes became moist once more.

“She wrote about how you helped her escape from the prison. How you protected her and had her keep going. She wrote about eating a snake, how you humored her on her search for alcohol to have her first drink, how she would play the piano and sing for you in a funeral home, while you were taking a nap in a coffin.” 

A tiny smile tugged at Maggie’s lips, while she gave Daryl the “only you would do a thing like that”-look. 

“She wrote that you taught her to shoot the crossbow, that she injured her foot stepping into a trap and how you carried her piggyback after that. She said the two of you came across a tombstone that ran “Beloved father” and how it made her so incredibly sad thinking about our dad and how you would notice and place some wild flowers on the man’s grave.”

Maggie placed her hand on his arm and gave it a squeeze. 

“This is who you are, Daryl. This is why she loved you, why Rick loves you – why we all love you, one way or the other.” 

Daryl pulled his arm away from her touch, while he once more stared at Denise’s grave, fiercely fighting the stinging sensation in his eyes. 

“And you’re all wrong. Beth trusted me. She said, I was made for how things are now and she relied on me ta keep her safe. Just like Denise. But I failed both of them. I shoulda tried harder. I shoulda done something. If …”

“Daryl.” Maggie had new tears pool in her eyes, but this time they were not for Beth, they were for the tortured man in front of her, who looked so incredibly lost in that moment.  
“If anyone really tried, always, it’s you. I remember how you almost got yourself killed looking for Sophia, a girl you barely even knew. And Beth, she knew you were gonna look for her and try to find her. It was one of the last things she wrote into her diary.” Maggie swallowed hard, while she pointed at the little booklet in Daryl’s hand.  
“She wrote, _I’m not afraid. I’m not alone in this – Noah is here with me and Carol, and I know Daryl is still out there looking for me. And one of these days he will find me, too._ And you did! You were there when she …”

Daryl pulled up his knees, crossed his arms on them and rested his head against them, as though it was too heavy to hold high any longer.

“Yeah, I was there. And I couldn’t do anything to prevent her from getting killed. Just like Denise. They were both shot right before ma eyes and I just didn’t _do_ anything.”

His voice was breaking and the labored breath he pulled in, was shuddering as he fought for his composure.  
Maggie dared move closer to him, her shoulder touching his as she almost tenderly leaned in.

“I wasn’t there, but I know what Carol and Rosita told me about how they died. There was nothing, nothing at all you could have done to prevent it, Daryl.”

“There was. I coulda killed that bitch who shot Beth before she even had a chance to move. And I shoulda. Just like that sonuvabitch Dwight, who stole ma crossbow from me. Or the Governor. I was in Woodbury – he should never have had a chance ta come to the prison and kill your dad. If I …”

“No!” Her reaction was fiercely and she placed one hand against his cheek to make him look at her. “No. If you would start going out and killing people simply because some day in the future they might kill somebody you love, what kind of person would you be? This isn’t you. And this should never be you! You wouldn’t be the man any longer Beth and Denise trusted and loved and only _then_ you’d be letting them down.”

His eyes got suspiciously shiny all of a sudden and he breathed in several times, his hands clenched to fists. Then, with a deep sigh, he opened one of them and held the keyring he had clutched almost violently all this time, out to Maggie.

“Denise wanted to go to that stupid store so badly – not just for the drugs she tought would be there, but also to go look for that soda pop she wanted to give ta Tara as a present.” He gave a humorless laugh. “Risked her life for a fucking _pop_.”

“No, for a present to someone she loved”, Maggie cut in softly.

“Yeah, I guess. And not just that. Did ya know she was a psychiatrist before all this started? That was some kind of therapy there – she wanted ta fight her fears. Wanted ta show that she could be brave. And she took me along, ‘cause I was, and ‘cause I reminded her of her brother and made her feel safe.”

There were tears now – Maggie couldn’t see them, but she heard them in his voice.  
He let his thumb run over the name tag in his hand.  
“She got this in that drug store. Dennis was her brother’s name. I made her feel safe …” He angrily wiped over his eyes with the back of the hand, that once more clutched the keyring. “She was dead only seconds after she had said that.”

His shoulders started to shake and Maggie placed one arm around them, surprised that he even let her. 

“Stop blaming yourself for things you have no power to prevent or change. This will kill you and neither Beth, nor Denise would have wanted that.”

“There were lots of things they wanted, Maggie. Lots of plans and dreams and all this was lost in just a split sec.”

“Not entirely.” Gentle she lifted Beth’s diary out of his hand, while she pulled back the arm she had put around him and opened the booklet. “Here. I’d like to read something Beth wrote after you had burned down that little house in the woods.”

He turned his head and cast her a surprised glance.

“She wrote about that, too?”

Maggie gave a curt nod, while a sad smile tugged at the corners of her lips.

“She wrote a lot about you. All the things you told her about yourself, about how you grew up, your family …”

She saw the uneasiness in his eyes and he tried to take the book back from her, but Maggie caught his hand nimbly and gave it a gently squeeze.

“It’s okay, Daryl. You told her, because it was important for you to share it at the time. And she wrote it down, because she felt it should be remembered. She didn’t just write this for herself, but for anyone who may ever read this book. Because she felt the world should know about you, get to know you.”  
She turned a few pages and then said:  
“This is what she wrote. Listen up. _Save for daddy, Daryl is the greatest man I’ve ever met. I don’t know, if I will still be around to see it, but one thing I do know – Maggie, Rick and the others are still out there. And if anyone can find them, it’ll be him. One day we may all see normal days once more – days when we can come together and celebrate birthdays and holidays and just for a while there forget all these ugly things keep happening. These days, more than ever before, we should celebrate our birthdays, each and every one of them, for we are unlikely to see many of them as it is. I hope it will be me, but probably it will be someone else, who will finally give Daryl that birthday party he never had, but deserves like no one else. He’s a gift to anyone who ever knew him and it’s a crime his own family obviously was unable to see that. But I do. And I know Rick does. And Maggie. And all the others, for we are his real family now. And he deserves that, too. I told him, one day he’ll be the last man standing. I take that back. I hope he won’t, because that would mean he’d be alone. He had his share of solitude and I don’t want him to be alone ever again. There should be someone by his side and I think, I’ve got a hunch, who that someone is he’s thinking of. The only one he’s mentioned ever since we lost the prison. The only one, who seems to be more important to him than anybody else. I hope, he finds him and that his love will be reciprocated. He’s got so much to give. Bad times don’t make bad people. They just change them – some for the better, some for the worst. And others only get to show their true colors. I think, I’ve seen Daryl’s, and they are beautiful. I bet, they’ve always been. And I hope this world never changes him._ ”

When Maggie stopped reading, Daryl was crying. Despite all his desperate attempts to stop the tears from falling, they were running down his cheeks, while he kept his face hidden on his arms once more.  
Someone kneeled down behind him, placed their legs on either side of him and strong arms were wrapped around him a moment later, pulling him back into a tight embrace. Daryl knew it wasn’t Maggie. He didn’t have to open his eyes or lift his head to know, who it was. He knew the scent. He knew the warm body pressed against his back. He knew the soul that was communicating with his own silently. Rick.  
Maggie placed a kiss on Daryl’s cheek. 

“You will never forget and it will always hurt”, she whispered into his ear. “But it will get better. Try not to lose the people that are still alive, too.”

She got up, her own tears still wet on her face, but she didn’t bother with them.  
_Not all tears are bad_ , someone had once said, and they were right. Sometimes tears were necessary to clean a tortured soul from a burder it should not have to carry.  
Softly she placed Beth’s diary on the ground next to Daryl, then she gave Rick’s shoulder a parting squeeze and left the two men alone in the small graveyard. 

For a long while they just sat there like that, Rick holding Daryl in his arms until the tears had run dry and the shuddering breath of the archer was even again. Only then Rick dared bringing his face next to Daryl’s, placing a soft and tender kiss on his neck.

“You okay?” he whispered.

Daryl gave a cut nod, nudging Rick’s head with his own.

“Sorry ‘bout that.”

“Don’t be. Just … talk to me next time, please. I didn’t know about all these things.” He pointed to the diary. “Didn’t know how you lost the crossbow and about Denise … and Dennis. – I wanna see your true colors, too, you know.”

Daryl craned his neck to look into Rick’s eyes.

“Thought you already did.”

“Most of them, but obviously not all.”

“Just hid the darker ones.”

“But they are part of the picture, too. They give it depth and help understand the entire masterpiece.” With a smile Rick tightened his arms around the other man playfully. Then the smile faded again.  
“Will you come home? To me?” 

Daryl held Rick’s look for a long moment, two sets of blue eyes drowning in each other as they had done so many times before.

“Yeah.” 

He turned around and kissed Rick so forcefully all of a sudden, that it had them fall over backwards and end up lying in the soft grass together.  
On any other day Daryl would have jumped at the chance, in any other place he would have, either, but this was neither the day, nor the place and so he leaped up to his feet almost instantly. He held out his hand to Rick to pull the younger man off the ground and when they stood face to face, Rick noticed the archer’s hands once more clenched to fists.  
He suppressed a sigh. His was not over yet. Daryl still had a long way of recovery to go, but he had made the first step and Rick would make sure to be by his side the entire rest of the way.  
They all had scars on their souls, they all had things torturing them and having them wake from nightmares – Rick knew better about these things than most of the others. And Daryl had always been there to help carry the load, to hold him when he was falling, to drive the nightmares away. And he was going to return the favor now, no matter what. 

He pulled Daryl into a tight hug and ran his hands soothingly over the other’s back. A gesture he wasn’t sure would be appreciated, but Daryl didn’t fight him off. His wounds obviously ran deep and the healing would take a while.

“I’m here”, Rick just whispered gently and when Daryl’s arms even tightened around him, he knew the message came across.

I’m here to help you. I’m here to do whatever it takes to make you feel better. I’m here, so you will never be alone again. I’m here, because you were always there right in time to save me. I’m here, because you never let me down and neither will I. 

“Sorry, I ruined the party”, Daryl said suddenly, while he pulled back a little.

A smile crawled onto Rick’s face. The crisis for now was obviously in check. 

“Everybody’s still there, if you care for a piece of birthday cake.”

A suspicious frown appeared on Daryl’s features.

“Did _you_ make it?” 

Rick’s smile widened.

“Nah, my job is supervision, you know that. Sasha and Maggie made it – it’s one of Carol’s recipies.”

Daryl gave a satisfied grunt. Reluctantly Rick let go of him and turned to go back to said party, when he noticed that the older man didn’t make a move to follow him.

“You’re coming?” 

Instead of giving an answer, Daryl picked up Beth’s diary and held it out to Rick.

“Here. Give that back to Maggie. She should save it for her baby – it’s from that new li’l asskicker’s aunt after all.” A sad smile flashed over his face.

Rick shook his head.

“You can give it back to her yourself, but she might want you to keep it. It’s all about you, after all.”

Daryl dropped the extended arm back to his side and pulled in a deep breath.

“Go ahead. Be right there.”

Rick knitted his brows. What was he up to now? He couldn’t help giving the archer and his surroundings a quick scrutiny and a moment later his eyes came to rest on the bag with the bottles that lay half hidden behind a bush.  
Before he even had a chance to say anything, Daryl had picked it up and pushed in his arms.

“Here. Case this has ya worried. Pass ‘em around on that party or toss ‘em. Don’t need ‘em anymore.” 

Rick’s head came forward and he pecked Daryl’s lips with a relieved sigh.

“I’ll toss them. We all don’t need them.”

He turned to leave, but stopped after a few steps once again.

“Hurry up. Abraham says he wants _a piece of that fucking cake._ ”

“Tell him, he’s gonna get a piece of ma mind, if he doesn’t stay outta ma hair – and clear off ma fucking birthday cake.” 

Rick laughed out loud and winked at his boyfriend.

“I’ll tell him.”

“And Rick …”

The younger man turned around once more.

“If ya wanna see yer own birthday, don’t dare sing.” 

That had Rick burst out laughing again.

“I’ll never hear the end of it, right?” 

The moment he had disappeared between the wall and the bushes to head back to the infirmary, all amusement dropped off Daryl’s face and he clenched his teeth once more.  
He stuffed Beth’s diary into the back of his waistbend and then pulled out the keys to his motorbike to apply Denise’s keyring to them. Once more he almost tenderly ran his thumb over the _Dennis_ name tag, before he kneeled by Denise’s grave.

“There’s something I gotta do. Your brother would have understood. This ain’t over yet. That bastard ain’t gonna get away with what he did. Promise ya that. I’ll get him and when I do, he’ll be sorry. – You deserved another birthday, too. He ain’t.” 

Slowly he got back up and stood in front of the makeshift headstone a moment longer.

“Miss ya”, he finally said, before he turned around and left the small graveyard by the wall.


End file.
